


Without a glance

by ellejaymac, MagicianAzFell



Category: The Good Fight (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Benefit dinner, Daddy Kink, F/M, Grinding, Oral Sex, Roland Blum in general kink, Rough Sex, blowjob, neck kink, thigh kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25402993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellejaymac/pseuds/ellejaymac, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicianAzFell/pseuds/MagicianAzFell
Summary: Roland takes you out to a fancy benefit dinner and wants to get frisky, but when you get back to his he's not in a mood to play nice.
Relationships: Roland Blum/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	Without a glance

You love going to events on Roland Blum’s arm. He’s always so attentive to you in public, and this charity dinner is no different. Before you enter the room, he drapes his extravagant coat around your shoulders and kisses you firmly, biting your lip to bruise it slightly and make sure everyone in the room knows. The bastard.

Roland leads you to your table, pulling out your chair for you before he settles into his own with a grunt, shuffling his chair sideways so he can sit with his arm around you. You can tell he’s in one of his extravagant moods. He keeps your glass topped up with champagne all night, and feeds you olives from his own plate, growling in appreciation when you lick the oil off his fingertips, in full view of all the rich assholes in the room. When dessert comes he insists on feeding you cheesecake, watching hungrily as you close your lips around the fork..

During one of the mind-numbingly dull speeches about whatever it is the dinner is in aid of (neither of you are entirely sure), Roland leaves to go do a line in the bathroom, kissing you again and passing you a pill from his own mouth as he does. You watch him walk away, enjoying how nicely his butt fills out his perfectly tailored suit. He knows that most of the eyes in that room are on him.

When you turn back to the table, you find that Roland’s seat has already been taken by some twat trust-fund kid who looks like he’s still in college. He tries to start a conversation with you but you give him one word answers, trying to look as bored as possible so he’ll leave quickly. Unfortunately, he’s a few too many glasses of champagne down and taking no hints, as he slurs and leans obnoxiously close. Thankfully, Roland returns a moment later. He stalks up behind the kid and growls “Hey, Junior, take a hike.”

The kid dopily turns around to see Blum casting a shadow over him. 

“Hey man, this seat doesn't have your name on it” he slurs,“All I’m trying to do is have a nice chat with this fine young lady, and you’re killing the vibe .” Roland glares down at him, and you see the rage build in his eyes. The drugs he took are not helping his already short temper. 

“What’s your name ya little fuck?”

“Uh, Kevin, but what does that have to do wi-”

Roland cuts him off mid sentence by grabbing him forcibly by his upper arm, dragging him to his feet, and drawing a few eyes in the room. He brings him about six inches from his face and spits, “Listen, _Kevin_ , you little prick, no one gets near this woman, no one gives her a passing glance unless I say so. So, if you know what's good for you, I’d get the _fuck_ outta here.” Roland pushes him away as the kid scurries out of sight, laughing as he watches him leave. He resumes his chair, wrapping an arm protectively around you again. “You okay?”

“Yeah, he was just a drunk little shit.” Roland frowns in disapproval at your language. You know he doesn’t like it when you swear in public. He refills your glass again and hands it to you. 

“Drink.” he commands. 

You frown at him and take a small sip before putting the glass back down on the table. He pouts but says nothing. 

The next speaker comes up, and starts to give some lecture about donating to food pantries. Roland lets out an ill-timed chuckle as he adjusts himself in his seat. He leans to your ear and growls, “All this food talk is making Daddy a little hungry for dessert.” He moves his hand to your inner thigh and gives it a squeeze. His hand starts to slowly make its way upwards as you begin to blush and twitch longingly at his touch.

The applause brings you back from Roland’s intoxicating touch long enough for you to remember where you are - in a room full of people at a very fancy dinner. You gently but firmly take his hand and place it back on his lap and say, “I think I’ve had one too many drinks tonight. Do you mind if we call it a night a little early?” 

You read frustration in his expression, and he replies in a rough, low tone, “Fine,” He sniffs, scratching his beard “But, you should stay at mine if you’ve drunk too much.”

You agree readily to that, since the suggestion of leaving was a not-so-subtle excuse to get into his bed anyway. He stands and reaches out for your hand as you both make your way to the exit. Roland doesn't even look in your direction on the short walk to the valet outside.

“It’s under Blum.” He tells the valet in a monotone voice and tosses a few crisp dollars at him. “And if there is one speck on that car I swear to God I’ll make sure you can’t get a job within a hundred miles of Chicago for a long fuckin’ time.” The valet’s face drains of color as he nodds, and rushes through the double doors behind him. 

You’re taken aback at the sudden change in his demeanor as he lets go of your hand and walks towards the street. Roland fumbles around in his coat pockets for his snuff box - that has never contained snuff - when he looks back to see you standing in the same spot he left you. 

His gaze burns into you and you have no choice but to follow him. Just as you reach him, his Rolls rounds the corner and pulls up in front of you. The valet puts the car in park and hurries around to Roland’s side. 

“Apologies for the wait Mr. Blum. Here are your keys, enjoy your eveni-” Roland yanks the keys from his hand and strides around the car, not bothering to open your door. The valet opens your door with a, “Have a great night ma’am.” 

As soon as the door latches, Roland slams the car in gear and rips into the night before you can put on your seat belt.

“For fucks sake Roland, I’m surprised you didn’t start driving before I got in.” You reach for your seat belt as Roland starts to brake for a red light. You extend your hands to the dash as you brace for the stop. You shoot him a reproachful glance, but his attention is on the intersection and he doesn’t react. 

The light turns green, and you manage to buckle yourself in just before Roland slams the accelerator to the floor, sending the car zipping through traffic.

He is clearly wound up, and you know that when he’s wound up he’s at his most unpredictable and therefore most fun. You stay silent for the rest of the ride back to his place, wanting to keep him simmering under until you get him in private.

He pulls up outside his building and flings the driver’s side door open, slamming it behind him when he gets out. You don’t wait to see if he’ll open your door, knowing that he’ll get more wound up by you being able to read him so easily.

He says something to the valet you can't make out as you follow Roland into his building. You stand about two feet behind him as you both wait for the elevator, and your eyes can’t help but settle on his butt again. The ding of the elevator interrupts the mental image of Roland’s bare ass as he steps in and quickly pushes the 10. You barely make it inside as the doors close behind you.

As the elevator hums, your eyes wander again, but this time to the front of Roland’s slacks, but you quickly raise your gaze to the doors before you think he notices. You can hear your pulse in your ears, and you draw out your exhale as you nervously fix your hair. 

The elevator settles into place and the doors open as Blum strides out into the hallway. His pace is brisk, and you struggle to keep up with him. Your heart rate speeds up as you come to his door.

You take your place next to him as he aggressively fumbles through his pockets for the key. After several seconds, he holds out his hand, not even turning towards you, his jaw clenched in discontent. You instantly start to dig through your purse, praying that it’s in there. You find it in the inner pocket where you placed it, and gently place it in his hand.

He swiftly unlatches the door, and stalks into the darkness. As you enter, the lights flicker on and you see Roland taking a hanger out of his coat closet. You follow him and attempt to help him with his coat, but he sharply shrugs it off and hangs it up before you manage to lay a hand on him.

“Jesus what a boring fuckin’ dinner! I don’t know why I let you drag me there.” he says, pulling his tie off angrily. He huffs as he shrugs off his suit jacket and undoes the top few buttons of his shirt. “And you couldn’t even make it fun for me.” He scoffs and throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know why I try with you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think getting arrested for public indecency would go down too well with the disciplinary committee of the bar association.” you say with a laugh, pressing yourself against him with a thrill as you feel him sporting a semi against your hip. “Now that it’s over, wanna have some fun?”

He barks out a loud, short laugh “I’m not gonna fuck you after that!”

“Please?” you pout and slip your hand under his shirt, rubbing it firmly across his chest. He takes your wrist and firmly moves your hand off him. 

“No. I’ve got work to do and you don’t deserve my cock. You didn’t want it at dinner so you don’t get it here.” You felt a thrill of anticipation in the pit of your stomach, even though he was supposedly telling you no.

“Since when do you do work outside the courtroom?” you ask, a little teasingly.

“Since now, princess.” he answers, going to his desk and slouching in the throne-like chair. He turns his attention to the sheaf of papers on the desk and you follow him over, leaning against the edge. He sighs theatrically.

“Are you gonna follow me around all night?”

“Yep.” you reply, popping the p loudly.

“Okay,”. He says, suddenly business-like. “I’m not giving you my cock after you turned it down at dinner. But daddy is feeling generous tonight, so I won’t leave you like this either.” You lean forward hopefully “You can have my thigh while I work.” He gestures at his lap, spreading his legs a little. 

You are disappointed and pout at him for a moment, before relenting and slipping out of your dress and panties to settle naked onto his still-clothed thigh, digging your fingers into the tops of his shoulders to steady yourself. The wool of his slacks is soft and a little scratchy against your skin, but provides a decent amount of friction. You give an experimental drag of your hips along his thigh, and it feels surprisingly good. Roland allows you to wrap your arms around his neck for better purchase, though he leans forward so he can continue to read the papers on his desk unimpeded. Resting your head against his neck, you press your lips against his shoulder as you start to grind against him in earnest, listening carefully for a catch in his breath, a little moan, anything to betray his arousal. But no matter which way you move he remains as calm and focused on his work as if he had been on his own. 

You try sliding a hand into his hair and dragging your nails across his scalp. Nothing.

You move your other hand down to grip his shirt. You nibble at the lobe of his ear. Nothing.

Still, his force of will is not strong enough to stop one part of his anatomy betraying him, and you can feel that his slacks are even tighter now than they were when you climbed on board. You try to go on the offensive, moving a hand down to grip him through the fabric, but he intercepts you on the way down, capturing your wrist in his surprisingly strong hand. 

“Ah, ah, ah. I said no. It’s thigh or nothing.” his voice is low and rough.

You huff in resignation but accept defeat, resting your face against the crook of his shoulder as you ride his thigh wantonly, chasing release any way he’ll give it to you. You inhale deeply, taking in the smell of sweat, alcohol and _*Blum*_ coming from his slightly damp shirt. Your climax is building, and you return your hands to grasp fistfulls of his hair as you clamp your mouth onto the juncture of his neck. Soon you’re coming, your cry swallowed against the damp skin of his neck as you buck and tremble against him before finally drooping, spent, against his broad body. He wraps an arm around your waist to support you as you get your breath back, but that’s the only acknowledgement he gives of what just happened, and he keeps his attention on the papers on his desk.

After a minute, he makes a show of shuffling the papers and huffs loudly, which you take to mean he’s done. You go to climb out of his lap but he tightens his arm around you and stands, picking you up as he does, and sits you on the edge of the desk. He releases you and takes a step back. 

“Look at the mess you’ve made.” He says sternly, gesturing to his leg where there’s a large damp patch on his thigh.

“Sorry Roland…” you say.

“Sorry doesn’t clean it up.” 

You hop off the desk and sink eagerly to your knees, ready to lick your own juices off Roland’s soiled pants but he stops you with a hand in your hair. 

“No. Under the desk.”

You smile and crawl under the desk as he settles back into his throne, pulling it in towards the desk so you’re confined by him. He keeps his hands on the desk, again seeming to pay you no attention. Probably drawing dicks on photocopied takeout menus, you think. You smooth your hands firmly up his thighs, and begin to lick at the damp patch, gently, with just the tip of your tongue. You draw circles along his thigh with the tip of your tongue, then drag it flat along the stain. His leg twitches and you can tell that you’re finally starting to erode his self control. 

You ramp it up a notch by placing your mouth over the stain and sucking at it. He lets out an audible huff above the desk, and you slide your hands further up his leg, daring to palm one over his hard cock. He practically whimpers, and does nothing to stop you this time as your hand strokes firmly over him. You abandon the damp patch altogether now, moving your mouth to wrap over his bulge, and he groans softly above you. Without waiting for him to completely cave and demand it, you unbutton his trousers and pull down his zipper, freeing his rock hard cock at last. The head is dark pink and you know he must be absolutely throbbing. You waste no time swallowing him to the root with a gratified moan that Roland loudly and hoarsely matches. One of his hands makes its way off the desk and tangles in your hair to guide you as you bob achingly slowly up and down his length. He grunts in time with your bobbing, and makes a surprisingly high-pitched moan when you swirl your tongue hard around his head. When you hollow your cheeks tightly around his cock and use your tongue to tease him, he finally snaps.

The hand in your hair pulls you firmly off him as he shoves the chair backwards forcefully, toppling it. He pulls you by your hair out from under the desk and gets to his feet, spinning you round and pushing you roughly over the desk. He digs his fingers savagely into the flesh of your hip, and you can tell that you’ll have the marks of his fingers there for a week. He presses up behind you and bites the back of your neck, his cock rubbing against your ass, before he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes roughly inside with a harsh growl, slamming your hips against the edge of the desk. 

You let out a deep groan at the feeling of fullness as Roland is _finally_ inside you and giving you what you’ve been thinking about all night. He sets a rough pace straight away which you try to meet, gripping the desk for purchase, but he puts a hand roughly between your shoulder-blades, pushing you into the desk so that you can barely move. Again and again he slams into you, his hips meeting your ass with rhythmic slaps. 

You try to turn your head to look into his face - he’s flushed, teeth gritted and bared. His chest heaves up and down in time with his animalistic grunts and the tendons in his neck are standing out in exertion. He spots you watching him, and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling roughly on it so that your head is forced up and straight ahead. 

“Fuck’n move again, I dare ya” He snarls, bringing a hand down on your ass and you cry out loudly, more in surprise than in pain. He immediately stills his hips, his dick mostly out. Slowly he flattens himself against your back and murmurs in your ear,

“Oh, so now you’re gonna start complaining?” 

You’re caught off guard by the sudden stop and groan in frustration, trying to push back against his hips and take him inside again, but his weight on top of you pins you to the desk and keeps you where you are. 

“What do you want, sugar?”

When you don’t answer him immediately, he unwinds his hand from your hair. You place your forehead on the table and huff in frustration as you try fruitlessly to get some more friction.

“Roland, please?”

“Please what, princess?”

“Come on, you know what!”

“You gotta tell me or I’m not moving.”

“Please keep fucking going, you bastard!”

He huffs a laugh in your ear and pulls out entirely, making you bang a fist on the desk in frustration. Thankfully, he doesn’t make you wait long. He flips you onto your back, immediately spreading your legs and hooking one over his shoulder as he pushes back inside, keeping eye contact with you the whole way in. He’s not teasing anymore, drawing back and then slamming mercilessly into you, again and again and again. When you try to turn your head to the side, he grabs your chin and turns your face back so you have to keep looking at him. 

“I already told you once to stop fuckin’ movin’, and I ain’t askin’ again, so keep. Your. Eyes. On. Me.” he growls, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. You watch him pant and huff, beads of sweat running down his face and neck, pooling in the deep hollow at the base of his throat. His shirt is soaked through and clinging to his body. He braces the hand not holding your leg against the desk and bends over you so that a drop of sweat drips onto your face from his pointed nose. You reach your hands up to his heaving shoulders and dig your nails into them again, urging him onwards. A few savage thrusts later, he is coming with an almost feral snarl. He bit his lip as he came, and blood now mingles with the sweat that drips from his face as he gulps in air, briefly collapsing against you, exhausted. You run your hands gently through his sodden curls, savouring the fact that he still hasn’t pulled out, as he gets his breath back. 

When he does eventually pull out and straighten back up, you sit up as he pulls his slacks back up and fastens them. You go to stand, but he stops you, instead picking you up by the waist and throwing you surprisingly easily into a fireman’s lift. You giggle and feel him chuckle under you in return as he playfully (and gently) slaps your ass. He carries you over to the bed and lays you down, kissing you tenderly on the forehead. “I’ll be back in a second.” he says, heading to the bathroom and returning with two glasses of water and two cold flannels. He sits down beside you on the bed and hands you one of the glasses, placing a flannel softly on your forehead.

“You feeling okay, babe?” he asks as he mops his own face with the other flannel and unbuttons his shirt. 

“Yeah I’m good. A little sore, but good sore.” You say, smiling at him. He smiles back at you, laying a hand comfortingly on your thigh.

“Anything I can get you?”

“No, just get over here.” You say, patting the spot next to you on the bed. He grins and strips off the rest of his clothes before laying down on the bed and pulling you flush against his body. He runs his hand softly up and down your arm and presses gentle kisses to your temples, your neck and your shoulders. The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Roland humming what you suspect is an irish lullaby under his breath as he buries his face in your shoulder.


End file.
